


The cold overtook him

by kivutio



Series: The scars that mold us [1]
Category: Kane and Feels (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22544428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kivutio/pseuds/kivutio
Summary: There are many things that leave its mark on us and not all of them are visible.A few weeks after "The Frozen Child" Lucifer Kane is still not over the whole affair. He doesn't want to admit it, though.
Series: The scars that mold us [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622095
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	The cold overtook him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krzeslicko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krzeslicko/gifts).



> The first part of a mini series focused around my head canon that our boys have a lot of emotional and physical scars. I'm wasn't made to be a writer so forgive any mistakes but this idea has been stuck in my head for a while now and I had to write it down. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and, if you so desire, leave me feedback.

It’s only been two weeks since their last case but the cold touch of baby Acteonsen’s hands still lingered on Lucifer Kane’s skin. He shivered at the memory and turned his attention back to the five feet tall man sitting in front of him.

Their client for today was a man in his thirties with a crazed glint in his eyes. Despite clearly being of a higher status, he looked unkempt, as if he stopped caring at some point. His hair was dirty, and Lucifer could see old coffee stains on his expensive dark grey suit and white dress shirt. Pity. It was a nice shirt.

“I don’t know what to do anymore”, the man muttered again and Lucifer rolled his eyes. Over the phone, the details were kept carefully vague but the client was insistent on meeting as soon as possible. Feels and his puppy eyes insisted on taking the case so of course Lucifer took it. Unfortunately, so far the only thing he found out was that the client thought he was going mad. 

How original.

Damn Feels and his bleeding heart, cursed Lucifer internally. He only took the case because of Brutus, who was recently in a foul mood, but he wasn’t even there! He buggered off before the client even showed, storming out of the door with some lame excuse about an anniversary. 

He could have at least came up with something believable.

Jonathan Danielewski was still muttering nonsensical words under his nose when Lucifer decided that enough was enough and rose up from the settee.

“Tea?” He tried to imitate Brutus’ tone of voice but even to his own ears it sounded flat. Well, he tried. 

When he came back, the client seemed to get it together a bit and was now looking at Lucifer with less clouded eyes. 

“Mister Kane, you need to help me. I’m losing my mind. ”

“Rest assured, Mister Danielewski, that I will do anything I,” he didn’t get to finish because of a piercing sound that made Lucifer spill scorching hot tea onto his sleeves.

He hissed and quickly took off his jacket, throwing it swiftly at an empty seat next to him. 

Splendid. At least it was one of his least favourite jackets.

The client didn’t even seem to notice, too preoccupied with his bloody phone, the obvious source of the disturbance. He was clearly not as worried about his state of mind as he said he was.

Lucifer let out a disgruntled sigh and let himself roll his eyes again.

Mister Danielewski continued on with his conversation for another painful five minutes, his voice too high-pitched for Lucifer to properly relax, all the sudden noises making him feel on edge.

It became his new normal about two weeks ago.

He was fine, as he would insist every time Brutus questioned his trembling hands and dark circles under his blurry eyes and the way he started to drink his tea way too hot. 

Brutus was wasting his time worrying over nothing.

Him being cold was really nothing to worry yourself over.

“What’s so funny, Mister Kane?”, someone asked and the noise made him startle. 

Lucifer looked up, disoriented. 

“You were smiling.” The answer made his eyebrows rise up. His lips suddenly started to sting.

“Huh. Anyway, I see you’ve finished your conversation so may we start now?” asked Lucifer sharply. He was going to strangle Brutus when he came home.

“Oh, yes. It was a work call. I’m an investor, you see, so I have to be always available in case of emergency.” The client seemed to gain some confidence after the call. It was plain to see that he received some good news.

“Yes, I get it, you’re important. Now, your case?” Brutus definitely deserved a more painful death than strangulation. A slow acting poison would do.

While he debated the way to kill off his flatmate, the client went on to describe his definitely a ghost case in great detail. Lucifer just sat there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. He was thinking about all the ways he could get rid of that annoying, dirty little man when he noticed a wet spot on the table. 

He quickly wiped it with a tissue and was about to tell Danielewski with no small amount of pleasure that they did not do ghost cases, when Danielewski said something that stopped him dead in his tracks.

“What happened to your arm, Mister Kane? Did you burn yourself?”

He wore a short sleeved shirt today. 

The red, uneven skin on his right arm was free for all to see.

Bollocks.

He used to think he got lucky, in a way, that he got away with just that. He would heal from the frostbite and he wouldn’t lose any limbs.

He would be  _ fine  _ so why was he feeling like this?

Red. A patch of skin cursed by his self importance.

He wanted to move, to cover his arm but his body wouldn’t listen. 

Suddenly, he was out.

He was drowning, his limbs heavy. Everything was covered in dark shadows and it was a struggle to even breathe in.

Then, the cold entered his bones. The chill started to creep onto his skin, painstakingly covering him in white frost.

His fingers wouldn’t bend.

He couldn’t move. 

Was he dying? 

...

He could feel it was almost over.

A loud bang broke him away from this state. He got up, ready to fight, but it was just Feels. 

Feels in his stupid best jacket wearing his stupid sad smile.

The stench of flowers overtook his insides and made him want to throw up. He made his way to his room without saying a word of greeting. Brutus would be fine.

He returned after a few minutes in a new, long sleeved dress shirt, continuing on as if he’d never left. 

His partner looked at him funny but made no notion of starting a conversation. Good. He knew he would tell him the truth, this time, but he also knew that he would regret it soon after. He just wasn’t made for sharing his emotions.

It was better that Brutus didn't ask, he tried to convince himself, because it was better to stay indifferent in their line of work. Besides. He was  _ fine _ .

***

They ended up taking the case, although begrudgingly on Lucifer's part, as Brutus was clearly out of his mind.

It turned out Brutus went to a graveyard, of all things. Lucifer wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.

The frost in his veins remained even when they got to the client’s house and got rid off the ghost haunting him; was still there when they came back home, covered in spider webs and dust. The pain in his arm was a constant reminder of what self importance could lead to and he knew he had to get used to it. It just… took him a while to adjust but he would get there.

He always did, in the end.


End file.
